


rejection

by tiend



Series: writing wednesday prompts [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15175040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiend/pseuds/tiend
Summary: for finish-the-clone-wars prompt 'the chase' - stream of consciousness from a Coruscant Guard trooper running after Ahsoka during 'The Wrong Jedi' arc





	rejection

Ninety-eight is just coming off shift when the APB goes out. The entire ready room jams their buckets back on and rolls out with weapons free: jedi on the loose, jedi armed and dangerous. As if jedi ever carried anything other than a killing weapon. 

She’s outside before anyone gets eyes on her - there are going to be so many lockdown drills in the next few weeks - but the massifs have her scent now, baying with desperate urgency, straining against their leashes. Turrets stitch green bolts across the forecourt when she makes a break for her ship, and boom! - that’s the easy way out gone. Would’ve been nice if a piece of it had taken her down, but no luck, she’s up and running now, cutting across to the industrial pipelines. Hound’s barely holding on to Grizzer, and wouldn’t it be a shame if he didn’t, if the massif got to her first, the snap of their heavy jaws around her leg. She might even hesitate before attacking an animal.

Gunships are up now, the sweet sound of jet wash rushing over Ninety-eight’s audio baffles, and they’re gaining, racing her across the permacrete.

Commander Fox overrides the helmet comlinks: set weapons to stun. Skywalker wants her alive. Ninety-eight snarls, throws the switch, doesn’t break stride. Skywalker’s Padawan. Maybe she thought her master would protect her - dead troopers don’t mean much to any jedi, let alone the Chancellor’s pet. Ninety-eight’s seen him trotting to the Senate when his master whistles.

They’ve got to give it to her - the brother-killing bitch is fast. Tricky, too, but not tricky enough, not on this barren landscape, not when the threatened jedi pulls out her lightsabers - yes! - and lights them up. They pull Ninety-eight like a beacon, the metronome tick of her bright green blades as she scuttles across the walkways. I’m coming for you, Ninety-eight promises in the dark of their helmet. We’re all coming for you, little murderer. She might be from a predator species, but it doesn’t make her an apex, not here.

Why did it have to be Hound’s squad in the lead? Those brothers can’t shoot for shit.

Skywalker and the mutie blond from the 501st are out now too, struggling to catch up. Spotlights from the gunships wash over her even as she makes one of those jedi leaps they’re infamous for. She doesn’t have the sense to douse her sabers, and they’re alongside now, jump doors open, bright blue rings missing her every time, fucking lead your shots, you fucking shinies!

Then someone in the leading gunship pops off a rocket grenade and the lightsabers wink out. If she’s dead, that brother is going to be following right after. Ninety-eight promises to recite their name until the stars go black. But no, she’s up, one blade re-igniting - and it doesn’t matter, they’ve got her, boxed her in. She’s staring around at the tightening circle, disbelieving - and Skywalker orders them to stand down. He wants to talk.

If they want to have a heart-to-heart there are a number of comfortable cells inside, out of the rain. Just fucking stun the tailhead, get this farce over with. Ninety-eight can see the lines of tension in their commander’s body, because Fox is smart, he knows jedi - and there it is, she’s going to run again, cutting her way into a pipe.

Fucking jedi. 

Brothers from the gunships rappel straight in, but Ninety-eight has to go around, losing precious time. Lead squad reports they’ve got eyes on her, but Ninety-eight follows a hunch after Fox, splashing down grates and through massive, idling fans. The commander might need someone behind him that he can trust. 

She jumps downwell rather than face them, and that’s it, end of pursuit. They can’t follow her down a jump like that, although the mutie captain wavers on the edge. Ninety-eight’s not surprised; jedi do like to dodge consequences. 

Ninety-eight takes their helmet off, hawks and spits in front of the captain in blue. So fucking loyal. What use are jaig eyes to a lapdog? They pull their bucket back on defiantly, willing to pay the price for their insubordination, but the comlink is silent.

Going to be a busy day tomorrow. They trail Fox and the other two back to the exit in temporary defeat, and stand on the platform, waiting for the rest of the searchers to arrive. Everyone’ll be in new blacks tomorrow; the smell’s beginning to make it through the helmet filters.

“We’re done here,” Commander Fox announces, and walks away. Ninety-eight and the rest of the Guard turn with him in perfect sync, clone sync, presenting Skywalker and the mutie captain with their backs. They’ll be back on the chase soon enough; let the bitch run while she can.


End file.
